


What's In a Name?

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers, 2019 [10]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which THRUSH threatens Napoleon in a manner so childish, he can only feel insulted.





	What's In a Name?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Day 10 of Inktober's prompts, "Pattern."

Illya started putting in the pins in the world atlas on the wall. THRUSH had been planning something—they had been leaving calling cards with their insignia all over the world. No crime had actually been committed, but it was more than a bit vexing for U.N.C.L.E. when it was clear that they were being taunted.

“We need to see if there’s some sort of pattern to these calling cards being left around,” Illya said, placing more pins based on the coordinates of where the cards had been found.

“There has to be,” Napoleon said. “Look at this—this first batch of card locations form the letter ‘W.”’

“And the next batch forms the letter ‘A,’” Illya added.

“Maybe it’s a message for Mr. Waverly?” Napoleon pondered aloud.

Baba Yaga, curled up on the desk as she watched the goings-on, meowed her commentary.

“She is right—we must place the rest of the pins in before jumping to conclusions,” Illya instructed.

“She said that?” Napoleon asked.

“…It was implied.”

Napoleon chuckled to himself and put more pins on their locations, as did Illya. Soon, all of the pins were in place, and, just like the first two letters, the rest of the message ended up being spelled out by the coordinates—

“…It says ‘Waterloo,’” Napoleon said, utterly baffled. “Is that where they’re expecting to have some sort of meeting? Do we need to stake out Waterloo? We should increase our surveillance there, at any rate. I’ll put in the information to Mr. Waverly.”

Illya, who had been gazing at the pattern, suddenly stared at it with a new expression. He looked back at Napoleon, who was about to make the call up to Waverly’s office, and then back at the pattern.

“Illya?”

“Napoleon…!”

“Yes?”

“_Napoleon_!”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Not you! Well, yes you, but also the other Napoleon!” Illya gestured to the locations. “Waterloo!”

“The sight of Bonaparte’s famous defeat? So?”

“Think about it, _Napoleon_,” Illya said, stressing his partner’s name.

Napoleon stared at him for a moment before looking back at the map, and he suddenly exhaled through his nostrils in frustrated realization.

“Ah, and the penny drops…” Illya noted.

“This is a threat—directed at me,” Napoleon realized, staring at the map with a death glare.

“Yes, I believe they are trying to imply that you are about to meet your match, much like your namesake did at Waterloo,” Illya agreed.

“Seriously!?” Napoleon exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air in vexation. “This was the most creative threat they could come up with!? If they’re going to threaten me, they should use class and finesse—not this childish palaver!”

He gestured to the map indignantly, but then spotted Illya shaking with suppressed laughter in the corner of his eye.

“Am I amusing you?”

“You have to see the humor in the situation, surely,” Illya said, between chuckles. “THRUSH sends you a threat, and your vanity has you offended more than concerned!”

“In my defense, this is only about the 800th threat I’ve gotten from THRUSH; it’s kind of hard to take them seriously, even when they aren’t childish insults,” Napoleon huffed. “I’m beginning to wish Ma could’ve had her way and named me Albert like she’d wanted to!”

“Then they’d send you a threat that was a reference to Prince Albert instead,” Illya informed him. “Anyway, Napoleon, as your friend Shakespeare said, ‘What’s in a name?’”

“‘That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’” Napoleon finished. He managed a smile. “Yes, even with another name, I would be just as devastatingly dashing.”

“…Not the direction I was headed, but if it makes you happy, by all means, why not?”

Baba Yaga interrupted with a meow, demanding skritches from her two humans who, in her opinion, had spent far too long giving their attentions to those locations instead of her.

And Napoleon soon got his mind off of it.

Let THRUSH try their worst, he decided—if they were resorting to this, then they were clearly out of ideas, anyway.


End file.
